


no qualms with your sweaty palms

by heibai



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, holidays season, its just them holding hands for 3k words, tbh nothing really happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 16:06:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12963123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heibai/pseuds/heibai
Summary: Finding out that the person sitting next to you in your flight back home is someone with a chronic fear of flying. Would you consider it as good luck? Or bad luck?Taeil was the one in the position to do said consideration. Sicheng, on the other hand, was just thankful that the plane didn’t blow up in a big fireball during takeoff.





	no qualms with your sweaty palms

 

Taeil should’ve known.

 

Even before he stepped one foot onto the airplane, Taeil should’ve known that this was going to be one hell of a long flight.

 

First, he was chosen (more like cursed) by the universe to go through the _check in process from hell._ Told that his overhead luggage was overweight even when he had nothing in it but two sets of clothings and three paperback novels, and was then forced to check it in and pay for some mysterious extra fee.

 

Second, he spilled his coffee onto his freshly washed jeans. Great. Now he had to shill out even _more_ money to get it cleaned once he’d arrived at his destination. So much for deciding to wear jeans to cut off his laundry bills.

 

And then, once the universe has given him a breathing moment, a period of time where she let Taeil think that he’d gone off the bad-luck-hook by not being singled out for random bag checks, she made a sharp turn while yelling, _‘not so fast grasshopper!’_ and dropped an entire dump truck worth of headache on Taeil’s lap in the form of not one, not two, but _three screaming babies_ sitting not even two rows away from him at the boarding gate.

 

Which means that he will share a six hours flight home… with three screaming babies.

 

Amazing.

 

Truly, deeply amazing.

 

At least Taeil was consoled with the fact that he got the window seat. With this airline’s seating configuration, it meant that he only had to share his space with one other person sitting to his left. God, if Taeil got put on the four-seater middle section, surrounded by three other strangers who snores, smells, and goes to the toilet a lot, he will probably _internally combust._

 

After simmering through an extra hour of mysterious delays (what is with airlines and keeping everything mysterious, Taeil never understood _that_ ), he could finally board the plane through the slow and sluggish bee line made out of barely awake passengers. He took one last peek of the gloomy morning sky and thought, _‘cloudy with a chance of turbulence.’_

 

Taeil quickly made his way through the aisle, nodding and giving out warm, fabricated smiles to all the _‘good mornings’_ and _‘welcome aboard’_ given to him by the flight attendants on duty. Because Taeil knew, that if he acted sour to them so early in his journey, _they_ will only make everything worse once they’ve took off. So smile. And nod. And reap the good karma for when later he ever felt peckish, and one of the flight attendant remembered him as being _‘one of the pleasant ones’,_ and would secretly give him one extra serving of tiramisu behind their backs during meal time.

 

_30 H._

 

There it was, his seat. Not having his overhead luggage with him, Taeil could just throw his backpack under the seat in front of him and sit down with a relieved sigh. Well, at least now he could probably catch a few minutes of sleep before he could browse the in-flight entertainments or read a book or write something on his journal or,-

 

“Excuse me, is this row 30?”

 

Taeil hasn’t even started his ritual of playing the guessing game of who might be the person to share the seat next to him, when said person already showed up. One knee perching on the seat beside his to allow the line of people behind him to trickle down the aisle without disruption.

 

“Yes it is. Are you in 30 G?” Taeil asked, really, really courteously, because his seatmate, the one wearing an angry red of a fluffy beanie on his head and a long, puffy cream-colored coat, let out a heart-stoppingly bright grin and Taeil was instantly charmed. When he found out he was in the right place, the fellow traveller sat down as he exclaimed out in an adorable huff,

 

“it’s my seat!”

 

Maybe the earlier string of bad luck was the universe’s way to exact a down payment from Taeil. In return, she gave him the perfect seatmate from his dreams. The boy was so cute, _so cute,_ that Taeil found it hard for him to refrain from staring at his fellow traveller as he was trying to make himself comfortable on his seat.

 

He also smells nice so _that’s_ a really big extra point right there.

 

 _‘Dong Sicheng.’_ Taeil caught a quick glance of his seatmate’s name printed on his ticket, when he took out his passport and boarding pass from his back pocket to put it neatly inside his bag. And just like that, he was a nameless stranger no more. Well, to be fair they _were_ still strangers. But at least now Taeil was able to attach a name to this sunshine-replacement on an otherwise gloomy and dreary morning of his.

 

Taeil was just about to open his mouth and engage this Sicheng-seatmate-fellow-traveller with some small talks when he was beaten to it by a fraction of a second. Taeil was sure Sicheng saw that he was also on the verge of asking a question that it caused his own to be peppered with a giggle, “going home for the holidays?”

 

“Yes,” Taeil answered, also with a little case of the giggles, “my parents wouldn’t stop nagging me to join them for Christmas. So here I am. What about you?”

 

Sicheng’s giggle somehow got kicked off into a ringing laughter and such noise either caused Taeil’s heart to stop permanently or to run off like a reindeer galloping into the sunset, he didn’t really know. Taeil was too busy trying to focus on listening to Sicheng’s reply to figure out which one was the answer, “that’s really nice! My poor parents just have to wait until Chinese New Year before they see me. I already told them I’m fully booked until then, have too much friends to visit.”

 

They proceeded to chat, and chat, and _chat,_ for tens of minutes on end and Taeil though, _‘oh! God! Oh lords oh heavens oh my thank_ **_you_ ** _for allowing me to have such a wonderful seatmate (and also for putting the three screaming demons at the back section of the plane so I don’t have to deal with them).’_ Taeil found out that Sicheng was actually a friend of his close friend, the human personification of a golden labrador aka Nakamoto Yuta, after Sicheng realised, twenty minutes into their chat that, _‘I haven’t asked for your name!’_ and managed to put all the puzzle pieces into place. What a coincidence that Sicheng was going to spend a week at the city to visit some old acquaintances he made when he did a one term study exchange at the local university.

 

They promised that they were going to catch up again later over some coffee or something like that, when suddenly their conversation was interrupted with the voice of the captain crackling to life through the overhead PA system.

 

And just like that, _the sun set._

 

It was as if a thick, rolling cloud was blown over Sicheng’s face and Taeil could literally see the colour of his cheeks being drained out throughout the time it took for the captain to finish saying his welcomes, and the notice for the cabin crews to get ready for takeoff.

 

Sicheng quickly pried his hands away from the armrest once the announcement was over, seemingly surprising himself with how hard he was gripping onto them, and proceeded to rub his sweaty palms compulsively on his jeans.

 

The next words Sicheng sheepishly whispered was successful in sucking out the previous joy in Taeil heart. He knew then, that the universe wasn’t done playing her games on him.

 

“I’m sorry… I’m a bit afraid of flying…”

 

_ _ _ _ _

 

Taeil has to admit that Sicheng’s perseverance was admirable.

 

Even with true existential fear constantly leaking through his trained expression, Sicheng would never fail to smile back to stewardesses who came and went, offering in flight essentials like water bottles, socks, eye masks, et cetera. Once, a stewardess seemed to be able to read past his pleasantries and caught the faint wavering in his _thankyou,_ and proceeded to ask if he was okay. “I am good,” Sicheng answered. But he was everything but good, that much was clear. Skin the colour of weeks old curdled cream, sicklish yellow. Clammy. Covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Taeil had stopped talking with Sicheng for almost thirty minutes now because he could tell the guy’s mind was not there at all from his scattered answer. When Taeil asked, _‘have you eaten breakfast?’_ and Sicheng answered with, _‘no I didn’t have to pay for any extra fees, I didn’t bring anything with me’,_ Taeil knew it was time for him to stop. Let the kid regain his wit before they continue with any further conversation that demanded Sicheng to engage his higher brain functions.

 

So, with nothing else to do, Taeil jammed his earphones deep into his ears (because no matter how many times he’d flown, he still hasn’t learn to live with the buzz of an airplane’s engine and hates it with the fire of a thousand suns) and opened up the newspaper tucked on his seat’s compartment to catch up with the happenings of the world rotating down below. But he hasn’t even finished reading one article before a minor disturbance came from the sensation of a finger gingerly poking on the skin of his arm. Taeil pulled one earbud out just at the right time to catch the tail end of the captain’s announcement,

 

_“- please do not use the lavatory until fasten seat belt sign is turned off.”_

 

Sicheng didn’t have to say anything after that. His wide eyed fear was enough indication as to what he was feeling _and_ what he was about to convey. So Taeil took some liberties and gave the poor guy some reassuring words that he must’ve so dearly need,

 

“Turbulence? You don’t have to worry we’re going to be fine,-”

 

“Hold my hand.”

 

Just as he said it, Taeil felt the plane drop a few meters in altitude and he swore at least five people whimpered. Sicheng? Sicheng looked like he was about to throw up.

 

_“Flight attendants please be seated.”_

 

The last of the captain’s words were cut short when the plane was jerked to the right so hard Taeil’s head bumped against the plastic-y wall of the plane. He instinctively tried to look out of the window to see how bad the clouds were when Taeil felt Sicheng’s fingers on his arm grew from just a meek touch into a tallon like grip. He had no choice when that happened. His attention, and in extension his left arm, was fully owned by Sicheng.

 

_“Hold my hand.”_

 

By that point, it was no longer a wish _._ It was an announcement for an incoming event that could not be stopped even if Taeil wanted to, because Sicheng seemingly has ran out of patience (or bravery) and has snatched his hand right out of his lap.

 

“Please,” Sicheng added, after he was sure he’d secured Taeil’s fingers inside his bone crushing grip, fingernails digging so deep into the back of his hand the only thing stopping Sicheng from drawing first blood was only the fact that Taeil was born with an abnormally thick skin. _“Please?”_

 

Taeil wanted to tell Sicheng that they were going to be okay. Probably laugh it off and say something in the line of _‘you’re overreacting’_ or such and such. But something stirred within him when he felt the coffee inside his stomach churn like clothes tumbling inside a dryer, as the plane they were in was lurched to and fro inside this white rolling expanse of nothingness. They were just a mosquito, to be very honest. A small mosquito made of tin trapped in between god’s fingertips that could’ve so easily just… be erased from reality with one clap of the one’s™ hands.

 

Taeil would be lying if he said that he wasn’t in the least bit worried. Though he knew, if he showed even the tiniest bit of crack in his strong man facade, Sicheng would probably flop over to his belly and die of excessive fear. So, even if his palms were in actuality just as damp as Sicheng’s, Taeil managed to muster up a smile and whispered, “we’re going to be okay.”

 

The plane shaking almost violently for the next few seconds sort of negated his words, and Sicheng somehow managed to convey the words _‘no, we’re not going to be okay’_ with only one glance of his body language. His chin tucked in tightly against his neck, lips bitten so hard the skin that surrounded his teeth has turned a sickly shade of white, and fingers, locked in a vice grip they began to shake and shiver from the strain.

 

Knowing that Sicheng was so far from being able to discern any of his arbitrary comforting, Taeil gave up on trying to console him with legible words and decided to just give the poor, terrified kid some respite by just silently _being_ with him in such times of literal and figurative turbulence. _‘It shouldn’t be long,’_ Taeil thought as he squeezed Sicheng’s hand absentmindedly to the beat of a song that flowed from the one earbud still barely hanging inside his right ear.

 

“See? It’s stopping.” Taeil leaned in and once again whispered, after he counted that ten seconds have passed since the last time their airplane was tossed around by the pocket of bad weather they were flying through. But Sicheng didn’t open his teeth-dented lips to join in on Taeil’s observation until a few minutes have passed and they heard a sharp ping echoing through the sealed cylinder that signified that the overhead fasten seatbelt sign has just been turned off.

 

It was only then that Sicheng dared to blurt out his response in one long intelligible string of garbled mess, “itwillhappenagain.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“It will happen again,” Sicheng said as he leaned forward and tapped his fingers rapidly on the tv screen to bring it to life. The moment he saw that they have only been air bound for less than fifty minutes, Sicheng let out the most pitiable whimper that Taeil was sure his heart would’ve been broken into two if he was not so busy trying his best to not break off in laughter, “I want to get out of here.”

 

“Well, you can’t.” To his painfully obvious response, Sicheng gave Taeil a grimace and for a second he saw another emotion other than fear trying to break free from Sicheng’s tearful eyes. Exhausted disbelieve.

 

With his lucidity now completely intact, Sicheng finally realised the state of their linked hands and quickly pulled his fingers away from Taeil’s. Which was not a hard feat at all because they were _drenched_ in cold sweat. And so they slipped just like tiny eels running away from their captor. Sicheng probably saw the rows of thin red half-moons on the back of Taeil’s hand, which yes, were all his fault. But Taeil didn’t allow him to open his mouth and say his apologies because something has just popped in his mind that he thought would be an amazing offer to give to any nervous flyer. Because Taeil couldn’t keep quiet and watch this fellow seatmate of his be trapped between a rock and a hard place. Or maybe, more appropriately, between burning in a ball of fire and a free fall to his death down bellow.

 

“Feel free to hold it.” Taeil quickly had to add some more reassuring words when he saw Sicheng was starting to shake his head in disagreement, “I’m serious! I mean,- I lose nothing and you’ll feel better so… yeah. Hold it. It’s fine.”

 

Sicheng did show some hesitation, but it wasn’t a long one. Because one tiny turbulence was all it took for him to give up and sighed out his gratitude as his fingers slowly creeped back to grip around Taeil’s boney wrist, “thankyou so much.”

 

It came naturally afterwards. Their hand-holding, that is. Taeil just dangled his hand over the arm rest in the middle of their seats and everytime the plane was shaken by bad weather, Sicheng would silently took Taeil’s hand into his own. It ranged between a careless poke done casually from time to time, probably just a way for Sicheng to remind himself that he wasn’t alone in all this mess, to fingers interlacing tightly together looking like the top seam of a gigantic meat dumpling.

 

Through it all Taeil only calmly read an eBook he’d downloaded earlier, or watched some random episode of a tv series on the mini screen. Everything went by so effortlessly that Taeil almost forgot the measly deal they'd agreed upon until at roughly the middle point of their journey, Sicheng leaned in and requested an extra favour from Taeil with his wavering whispers.

 

“Talk to me, _please,_ about anything.”

 

After that, when the turbulence got especially bad, Taeil would top his hand-hold offer with nonsensical blabbers. Movie plots, his favourite tv series, a book he just completed. To be honest, Sicheng would probably listen (and even wholeheartedly appreciate) if Taeil decided to use that opportunity to bitch about the problems in his life.

 

Stewardesses came and went past their seats and Taeil could see, out of the corners of his eyes, the smile they were trying so hard to stifle. Well, not that Taeil could blame them. He himself could easily guess that the sight of them, huddling so close together that their foreheads almost touched, must’ve came across as looking incredibly endearing.

 

 

 

“You’re my saviour,” he said after they both found out that only thirty minutes were left in their journey. After Sicheng let out a high pitched _hurrah_ for knowing that soon his feet were going to reconnect with solid earth. “You’re the best, I can’t thank you enough.”

 

(Earlier Taeil asked, _‘how do you usually survive your flight if you fly alone?’_

 

Sicheng mulled over his answer for a little while before he answered, without any shame whatsoever, _‘I curled myself into a ball and cry myself to sleep.’_ )

 

“And thank _you_ for willingly volunteering to be my pillow,” Taeil teased, and no matter how hard he tried to hide it, they both noticed how Sicheng’s cheek suddenly bloomed into a pinkish shade of pleasant embarrassment. It was _his_ fault anyway, that when Taeil nodded off and wouldn’t stop knocking his head to the plane’s window, Sicheng decided to again, take the initiative and softly placed Taeil’s head on his shoulder. Taeil was grateful for that, of course, even though upon realising that he was cuddling with what was essentially a stranger _while_ said stranger was holding his hand, he shot up with a start and potently banged his head on the window’s blinds. The pain (and Sicheng’s fussiness in making sure that he was all right), was enough distraction for him to ignore the poorly masked laughter of the stewardess that were trying to serve them breakfast.

 

There was a long period of silence before Sicheng let out a jump of _‘oh I just remembered something’_ that came out so forced, Taeil knew he’d been ruminating on the thing he was going to say for quite a long while.

 

“So… next weekend, Yuta invited me to go on an outing. But because it’s so sudden nobody else joined. So uh… would you, maybe, if you’re not busy, like to join us?”

 

“Typical Yuta,” Taeil chuckled, “where is he going to take you?”

 

“Somewhere near his place. He said if the weather is nice he’s taking me fishing for two nights.”

 

There was a little bit of a pause before Taeil took a long inhale and answered with a _‘let me see if I can make it,’_ where the smile on his face turning ever so slightly wooden.

 

It felt like divine intervention.

 

Because little did Sicheng knew… Taeil has a certain fear of open water.

 

 _“Cabin crew prepare for landing.”_ There it was, the one scripted announcement that the both of them had been waiting for. Sicheng because he was too exhausted to brave even just one more hour in the air and Taeil because he’d grown to sympathise with Sicheng’s situation and would like nothing more but for the guy to get some rest as soon as possible.

 

In trained expertise and without having to say anything, Taeil offered his hand and Sicheng took it.

 

 _‘Well, even if I threw up on the boat, at least I knew_ who _would be there to hold my hand.’_

 

 

_“Aren’t they just perfect.”_

_\- Mother Nature_  


**Author's Note:**

> ps: written while I'm severely sleep deprived so pls pardon if the grammar was horrendous.  
> pps: finally i wrote something for my fave ship taewin (is it taewin or winil idk???) i feel sorry their first outing has to be done in this... bleak universe wow i promise i'll do better next time  
> ppps: thank to @asiannoodles for the title
> 
> pppps: hmu on twitter [@moon__soil](https://twitter.com/moon__soil)


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